


Dean Winchester and the Philosopher's Stone

by FrenchRoast



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchRoast/pseuds/FrenchRoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean need help finding yet another difficult-to-obtain object, and Castiel helps them out. Slight HP crossover, implied Dean/Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Winchester and the Philosopher's Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [888mph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/888mph/gifts).



Dean looked at Sam, frustration writ all over his face. He was pacing. “Are you seriously telling me that we can’t fight this thing without a magical sorcerer’s stone?”

“Philosopher’s stone, but yeah, that’s basically the only avenue left. The only way to face a rogue reaper is with something that makes you immortal. That’s the only way we do it, short of involving Death.” Sam sat at the crappy little motel desk, hunched over his laptop. “And we both know how pissed Death gets when we try to involve him.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well where the hell are we supposed to get one of those stone things?” Dean flopped onto his bed. The comforter on this one was scratchy, but not as stained as the one Sam ended up with. Dean considered that a win. Not that motel comforter stains bothered him all that much, considering the shambles he’d left so many rooms in. Or considering the varied stains Dean’s clothing had sustained over a lifetime of hunting. Still, sometimes he missed the freshly laundered sheets, the soft duvet he’d flopped onto so many times during that year he spent with Lisa.

Sam sighed. He was just as frustrated as Dean. “The lore says that a French guy named Nicolas Flamel made or at least had one back at the turn of the fifteenth century. But it’s spotty, and there’s nothing that says where this Philosopher’s Stone is now. We could check his grave, but he’s buried in France, and the stone might not even be there.”

Dean sat up. “What about making one? You just said some of the lore said he made it.”

“Yeah, Dean, but it doesn’t say how he made it. Assuming he even did. He was an alchemist. Do you know of any alchemists hanging around oh, anywhere these days?” 

“There is one alchemist left,” Castiel said, appearing in the disconcertingly convenient way he often did. “But even he cannot make a new Philosopher’s Stone. It was not manmade, despite the legends.”

“Do you know where we can find the one Flamel had?” 

“Or,” Dean interjected, “you’re immortal, basically. Can’t you knock this reaper out or something so we don’t even have to get the stone?”

“Dean, you know as well as I do that angels are very rarely permitted to stop reapers. Even a rogue one like this beyond the control of Heaven.”

“Wait, Cass, you’re saying God can’t stop a reaper? How is that--”

“Of course _God_ can,” Castiel said, cutting him off. “But we’ve been through this. If He wasn’t going to stop the apocalypse, I doubt He’ll care much for any pleas regarding a solitary reaper.”

“But you’re going to help us?” Sam shut his computer. 

“No one likes a rogue reaper. It’s troubling that Death hasn’t resolved the matter on his own already.” Cas walked over to Dean. “It won’t take long to procure the stone. Dean, you and I will go retrieve it. Sam, you stay here and prepare the ingredients for the binding spell we’ll use on the reaper once we have the stone.”

“Whoa, a binding spell?”

“It’ll be the same as the one you used on Death, but without the crystallized lightning bolt, so that should make it easier.” Castiel grabbed Dean on the shoulder, and suddenly, it was the break of dawn, and the two of them stood on a hill overlooking a lake and what appeared to be an insane castle. 

Dean looked at Castiel, whose trenchcoat was flapping lightly from the breeze. Dean wasn’t a fan of traveling angel-style, but he was pleased Cas had chosen to take him instead of Sam. Ever since Purgatory, he and Cas hadn’t been quite on the same page, but this, the two of them working on something together, this felt familiar. It felt right.

“Let me guess,” Dean said. He pointed at the castle. “The stone is inside the castle, under lock and key?”

“Close. That castle is actually Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the stone is inside, guarded by three magical obstacles, which are in turn guarded by a 3 headed monster dog.”

“They make 3-headed monster dogs?” Dean asked. He wasn’t surprised—not much could surprise at this point. It was more curiosity mixed with incredulity that he hadn’t come across them before.

“Most of them guard the gates of Hell.”

“Oh, that’s just great.” 

“This one’s name is Fluffy. He likes music, so you two have something in common.” Castiel looked at Dean. He wanted to so badly to explain what had happened in Purgatory. He wanted to apologize, but it was not the right time. For now, he would settle for helping Dean with this task. 

“So how do we get inside? Place like this, it has to have some security before you get to the 3-headed dog,” Dean pointed out. Castiel nodded.

“Luckily, these witches and wizards do not get their powers from demons, and they don’t have any sigils in place to keep me out of the building itself. I can get us inside quite easily, and even bypass the dog and some of the obstacles, but I can’t bypass the final one.”

“So you told me about the dog…why?”

“I thought you’d be interested.”

“Ah, right. Of course,” Dean said drily. “Shall we?”

Almost instantly, Dean and Castiel were in a chamber, facing a mirror. 

“This mirror is the key to finding the stone,” Castiel said. “It doesn’t work for me, so you will have to use it to help us. What do you see in the mirror?”

“I see...” Dean trailed off as he stared at the mirror. There was his mother. His father. They were smiling at him. Behind them, Crowley, Lilith, Lucifer, Yellow Eyes, and a myriad of demons were heaped into a pile, slain, never to bother the Winchesters or the rest of the world again. 

“The mirror shows you what you want to see. What you desire,” Castiel explained. “You want to find the stone, correct?”

“Right,” Dean said, snapping out of the trance the vision in the mirror had started to lull him into. “I want to find the Philosopher’s Stone,” he announced to the mirror, and it was true. Suddenly, he saw only his reflection. But his reflection winked at him, and pulled out a blood-red stone from his jacket pocket, only to put it back in again. As it put it back in, Dean felt that pocket get heavy. He reached in, and pulled out the same stone he had just seen his reflection holding. “Got it!”

“Good,” Castiel said. He touched Dean lightly on the shoulder, and Dean disappeared, safely spirited back to the motel room with Sam. They could handle things from there, Castiel knew. 

He turned back to look at the mirror. It wasn’t a lie to say the mirror didn’t work for him, not exactly. Cas could never use the mirror to obtain the stone. The vision he saw in the mirror was too powerful for him to overcome at this point. He didn’t want to step away, even though he knew he should. He decided to stay to enjoy it for awhile, until heaven called him back, which they would surely do very soon. They were always using him these days. For now, he just wanted to enjoy what he saw in the mirror—Dean and Cas, happy together, with no worries about Heaven, or Hell, or Purgatory. Happy together, forever.


End file.
